StarCrossed
by TatteredSpinner
Summary: What happens when people who routinely explore other planets discover a whole new world right under their noses on Earth? AU.
1. Chapter 1: Settling In

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER ONE: SETTLING IN

The meeting room was stuffy. It always was. Sage smirked unpleasantly to herself. Some things didn't change, even across alternate universes. She leaned against the wall where the window was set, looking out at the activity in the other parts of the underground base. And behind her, the people she had gotten to know over the last few years were discussing her fate with their alternate versions. She hunched her shoulders a bit more and wrapped her arms more securely around herself as she heard AV Daniel's voice. This was a monumentally bad idea – how had she let herself be talked into this?

"I don't quite understand why you're here," he said in that familiar way, slow and deliberate. He'd have his head turned a little, so he could squint out of the corner of his eye.

The Jack from her world spoke up. "The universe turned homicidal on her."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" shot back AV Jack.

"She didn't die when she was supposed to. Apparently it works differently for magic users – the ramifications are actually – " her Carter began, but was interrupted by the double.

"That's another thing – how can you be so casual about it? MAGIC! You're actually, _seriously_ talking about magic?"

Her carter made a helpless gesture. "I've tried to study it, quantify it, but eventually it's just easier to take her at face value." They both turned to look at Sage as if she were a knotty math problem that wouldn't unravel for them.

"Miss?" asked General Hammond's deep, lilting voice. "Perhaps you'd like to explain some of this yourself."

Great. Now everyone was looking at her. _Why should I? This wasn't _my_ idea._ "I was supposed to drown last month. I didn't. Now, strange things are happening; circumstances are being manipulated to increase the chance that I'll drown after all. _They_ think that it'll stop if I come here." She hoped the acid resentment she poured into the word 'they' as she glanced toward the companions from her world was strong enough. She suspected it wasn't, since the air hadn't begun to sizzle.

"Sage," her Sam began unhappily.

"Wait, wait, wait!" interjected Daniel. "There are so many problems with this. Even I can see – I mean, what about this world's – ah, this world's Sage? What happens if we come into contact with her? It's reasonable to assume – and hey, where am _I_? The other me, I mean."

Sage flinched. Her Jack cringed too, and hissed between his teeth. Her Carter jumped in quickly to fill the gap. "We made sure you don't have to worry about another Sage; that's why we chose this particular reality to bring her to. She," Sam shrugged. "She just doesn't seem to be around in this universe – even _our_ Sage couldn't find her."

"With her magic?" asked Carter. Oh, my. There were going to be problems there. If she stayed, that is. Which wasn't at all to be taken for granted. They didn't seem to want her here anymore than she wanted to be. The argument went on without her. She was more than glad to let it wage, back and forth across the table while she wallowed a bit in self pity.

_I shouldn't be doing this. If I really don't want to stay, I should push. I should try to take back some control. Of course what I really want to do is kill someone, but I just can't find the energy._

She jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder. Jack said quietly, "Looks like things are getting settled. Carter's already laying out plans to interrogate you. Just so you know."

Forcing a wobbly smile, she said, "Haven't I been through that before?"

"You know Carter."

"Not _this_ Carter," she practically spat; in a quieter voice, "Not this Daniel – not this _world_."

_So help me if he goes all kind and sympathetic he's gonna have to deal with a complete meltdown._

"You'll get over it."

Giving a laugh that ended in a hiccough she slapped his arm with the back of her hand. The moment didn't last. They turned back to the room to find that her team was getting ready to go back through the stargate – without her. She felt twice as small and lost as she had before. Across the room, she heard Carter ask Sam, "Is it just me, or did she shrink?"

Sam glanced in her direction before hurriedly turning away. "It's one of her talents. She can change minor details of her appearance depending on her emotional state." That was only partially true of course, but even Sam didn't know the complete extent of her 'talent.' And, of course, none of this was their fault. It was Sage's own fault for allowing herself to get sucked into such close friendships.

The glow from the stargate winked out, and Sage still stood there, staring through the glass of the control room window. She could feel the flow of activity in the room, eddying around her, leaving her in an isolated bubble, a vacuum of _otherness_. She didn't belong here, she – "Ah, Miss Griswold?"

She barely managed a civil, "Yes?" It was Daniel. _Of course_ it was Daniel. "Yes?" she repeated a little desperately.

"I just thought – well, you'll need a room, until you get clearance to go off-base; I thought I'd help you arrange all that. Teal'c lives on base, too."

Sage blinked. "He does? Oh. At home – well, never mind." She could see from the glint in his eye that she'd tweaked his interest, but thankfully he left it alone. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him to the hallway where the quarters were. She sighed when she saw the room. Of course, she knew what they were like; Jack – her Jack – lived on base, and despite its bleak concreteness, it was a common gathering place for the team. It was… home. Maybe she could do something similar with this space.

Daniel excused himself and left, leaving the door open as she plunked her small wooden trunk down on the bed. Thanks to her mastery of what she called borrowing space, it contained all her worldly goods. More commonly, it was called the carpet bag or Mary Poppins spell. Opening the trunk, she lifted out a mask of thin, beaten gold, slit of mouth and eye. On either edge at a level with the eye holes two narrow red ribbons were attached, and she used these to hang the mask over her bed. Standing back, she watched it intently. The serene blankness of its expression gradually transformed into a frown.

"Oh my gosh!"

Spinning around, Sage saw Carter standing open mouthed in the door, staring at the mask. "Come in, why don't you?" Sage asked coldly. Then she cringed at her own tone. Other Sam had just been trying to help, and Sage hadn't made a hard decision any easier. "Sit down," she motioned in a manner she hoped would be taken as inviting. In a resigned tone, she added, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions to ask me."

Carter smiled. She had the same endearing, apologetically determined expression. _I have to stop comparing them; otherwise I'll never settle in._ "I do, actually,"

While continuing to unpack her box, Sage said quickly, "Just let me warn you ahead of time, I know practically nothing about science or math or any of the really technical things you'll want to know about; I'm what's called an intuitive type. I don't have to _know_; I just _do._"

After a brief moment of disappointment, Sam brightened. "Well, that at least brings up a convenient starting point – types. There are types of – of magic users? Is there a closer term I should use? Do you refer to yourselves as witches or what?"

"There are dozens of types of magic users. And yes, some of them are witches. I am not a witch – I don't have the self-confidence. Among other disqualifications. You surprise me, though. Don't you want to know about the mask?"

Carter shifted. "I was … going to work back around to that. After all I've seen and done, I'm not prepared to totally discount the idea of magic – if we take magic to mean a way of doing seemingly impossible things without fully understanding the methods by which these things were accomplished – but I'm not ready to totally embrace the idea, either."

_Oh, she's going to _love_ this._ "About the mask… It belonged to someone I used to know. A very bad person for the most part, but I believe there was some genuine feelings for me there, somewhere – deep down. When that person died, a small trace of that maternal protectiveness stayed on in the mask. I use it as a sort of magical weathervane. I can't actually tell the future with it, like I said; it's more like a weathervane."

Carter picked up on something quite different than Sage was expecting, and sent the conversation in a direction she was unprepared for. "Maternal? It belonged to your mother?"

"Nnnno," sage narrowed her eyes at Carter. "She… raised me. She was not my mother."

Carter visibly shook herself and took on a brisker tone. "So, since you don't feel qualified to discuss the dynamics, how about the practicalities? What can you do with your – magic?"

Sage pulled some clothes out and began smoothing them out on the bed. "That's a difficult question to answer. I can do a few formulaic spells, like what allows me to fit everything I own in this little box when by rights it should be twice as big and multiplied by three to hold everything, but for the most part I specialize in on-the-fly, spur of the moment spells; if I see an opportunity, I can tinker together a spell for whatever happens to be needed at the moment – "

"That's where the 'intuitive' part comes in?"

"Give the lady a cigar… or a kewpie doll, if your taste runs that way."

Sam laughed. "I'm sorry; it's just the way you said that,"

To her surprise, Sage found herself smiling back. As it faded, she found herself impulsively saying, "I hope we can be friends – " and then stopped. _What the hell do I think I'm doing! I can't have friends –doesn't this whole situation demonstrate that?_

Sam seemed to realize something was wrong. Getting up from her chair, she touched Sage on the arm. She flinched. "I'm sure we can, Sage, but why don't I let you get some rest? My questions can wait until you've – "

" 'Settled in'?"

"Yeah," Sam hastily went to the door, and then stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot; General Hammond wants to have a proper debriefing with you tomorrow. We'll be discussing what was decided this afternoon, as well as some further details," smiling awkwardly, she pulled the door almost shut and was gone.

_Further details. What _was_ decided this afternoon? _Sage had to admit to herself that, really, the entire last month was somewhat of a long, unhappy blur.

Sage could just see the boots of the personnel assigned to watch her in case she somehow turned out to be an enemy agent and tried to do something enemy agent-like and blow up the base or steal the stargate. Cursing explosively, she kicked the door shut with a bang.


	2. Chapter 2: Good Advice

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER TWO: GOOD ADVICE

The girl looked even more tired than the day before, although some of the ill-shouldered resentment seemed to have leached away during the night. Daniel wondered if he would have dealt with being shunted off – by his teammates no less – into another reality with more grace, or less. She was sitting with her hands resting on the tabletop of the conference room, staring at them as if reading the future in them – maybe she thought she was.

"Miss Griswold, I'll be honest with you," Hammond began. "This isn't exactly the best time here at Stargate Command to be dealing with complications of this sort. You say you can use magic; could you perhaps give us a demonstration?"

She looked up from her hands. "What would you like me to do?"

"Oh, I dunno," Jack drawled. "Maybe pull a rabbit out of your hat?"

Daniel sighed. _That's right, Jack, antagonize her, why don't you?_ "Ah, Sage, Sam was telling me about something you showed her – something about your trunk?"

The look she was giving Jack made even him fidget. It wasn't exactly hostile – just arctic. She finally pulled her gaze away and regarded Daniel with the same expression. "It's a simple spell to borrow space from somewhere else. It makes things bigger on the inside than on the outside. Yes, I can apply it to small things like my trunk, my sleeve, backpacks, canteens, etc; no I cannot apply it to large items like rooms or buildings."

When Sam gasped and Hammond frowned, she said dryly, "I have done this before. Yes, I can work individualized, large-scale spells for emergencies, but no, I can't tell you what they might be. And no, I won't call in any favors for you. I might know the magic users from my home 'verse, but I don't know them here."

Daniel cut in hastily, before Jack could. "Oh, we don't have magic users here."

She rubbed disbelievingly at her forehead. "Of _course _you do; they just either aren't aware of what you're doing or have decided that you aren't going to do any irreparable damage." She looked up and glanced around the room. Seeing the skepticism on all their faces, she curled in on herself. "Trust me, they're here."

Hammond cleared his throat. "Well, putting that aside for the moment, about this demonstration – "

"Yes," Jack broke in, swinging insolently back and forth in his chair. "Make it a white rabbit, but not with pink eyes – never could stand pink eyes in an animal…"

At first she seemed to withdraw even more, and Daniel could have kicked Jack, but then she straightened her shoulders and asked, smiling ominously, "Do you know what a selkie is?"

"Uh," began Jack.

"A Selkie? As in the largely Celtic legends of animals – usually sea creatures – that form an attachment to a human and briefly become human themselves?" asked Daniel, ignoring the eye-roll he got from Jack and the open mouthed stare he got from Carter. Even the girl was looking at him oddly.

"A… little garbled, but yes. I am the opposite of a selkie. That kind of thing is so rare that there isn't really a proper name for it – but I call it 'having an othercoat.'" And she abruptly disappeared in a misty glow. Where she had been sitting was a small red fox with a knowing expression.

Jack sat up so abruptly that his chair thumped, and Sam looked under the table. _Holy cow,_ thought Daniel. Hammond was the first to recover. "Very impressive, Miss Griswold, but we've seen technology that – " the fox jumped up onto the table and, tail flicking like a cat's, trotted over to him and sat down. She barked expectantly at him. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched her. Lifting up her paw, she rested it briefly on Hammond's outstretched hand, and then she turned and barked at Jack, who was sitting at the general's left hand.

"What?" he asked defensively. The fox leaped past him onto the floor and was enveloped by the same glow as before. A few seconds later, Sage Griswold was back. She folded her arms and sighed, as if terribly put-upon.

She looked even more put upon when, at Jack's insistence, she was escorted down to the infirmary, to make sure she wasn't some kind of shape-shifting alien. All while Frasier was working, Daniel could hear Jack and Hammond _discussing _– one wouldn't say _arguing_ – in the background. Sam was sitting on the bed next to sage, and Daniel himself was leaning against the wall nearby. Frasier seemed to take an instant liking to sage, and the girl seemed grateful for a friendly face.

Sam was asking about Sage's transformation abilities, and Sage seemed at least resigned to answering. "Yes, I can change into more than one thing – no, I can't change into another human, that's not how the othercoats work. Well, the process is a little complicated, that's why it's so rare, but the first one is the hardest, after that, you've sort of got your foot in the door. Yes, that's one coat per form, which means I can't turn into, say, a dog, or an otter or whatever."

Daniel waited until there was a break in the conversation. "So, you seemed awfully sure about there being magic users here. Care to elaborate on that?"

She looked up at him with an odd expression, as if she'd forgotten he was there and he came as a disturbing surprise. "W-well, we had to do extensive research on several different realities to find one that I might be able to fit into. This world is really very similar to mine, and it was easy to find the key figures of the magic community. They're all here. They just haven't approached you, like they did in my home."

"So wait," Sam said, gathering steam, "you're saying that in your reality the SGC and the magic users are, what, partners somehow?"

Sage was just about to answer when the alarm signaling an off-world gate activation started blaring. _"UNSCHEDULED GATE ACTIVITY. UNSHEDULED GATE ACTIVITY. UNSCHED –"_

Sam was off the bed and halfway to the door, with Hammond close behind when Daniel noticed jack hesitating. He pointed at Frasier. "You keep an eye on her," he admonished, swinging his finger to Sage, who looked stricken. Daniel could have sworn he saw her chin begin to quiver, but then Jack had grabbed his arm and was pulling him toward the door. He just managed to hear Frasier's reproachful, "I keep an eye on _all_ my patients, colonel."

_Oh, light, this is going to be harder than I thought. I can_not_ start crying. Stop-stop-stop!_

Doctor Frasier laid a comforting arm across Sage's shoulders. "Don't take it personally. He'll come around."

Sage approximated a laugh. "You forget. I know the Colonel O'Neill from my world. Yeah, he'll come around – when hell freezes over."

Frasier gave her a startled look. "But weren't you close with him? I thought you were part of that other world's SG-1 team?"

Sage nodded. "As magical advisor, yes. But that was different. Jack – any Jack – has a _thing_ about other versions of himself. Haven't you noticed? This Jack won't like me, exactly because the other Jack did."

"O'Neill respects honor and determination. If you prove yourself, he will, as you say, _come around_."

Sage nearly jumped out of her skin. "Teal'c! I didn't know you were still here,"

Teal'c stepped nearer to the bed, quietly imposing. From somewhere (a place more petulant than brave, Sage was ashamed to admit), she gathered enough wits so mutter, "And what makes you think he's going to give me the chance to prove myself?"

_Oh, no. Not the disapproving eye-brow raise._ "Perhaps you should not wait to be _given_ the opportunity to prove yourself." He turned and headed out of the infirmary, presumably to the gate room.

Staring after him, sage said thoughtfully, "He always gives such good advice." Frowning, she kicked her heels against the bed board. "And it's always so damn hard to follow!"


	3. Chapter 3: Opportunity Taken

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with their creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER THREE: OPPORTUNITY TAKEN

After three days of utter isolation and an increasing sense of cabin fever, Sage asked General Hammond if she could at least leave the mountain. "I'm not asking to go off-base, but I need – I _need_ some fresh air, some sunlight. Please."

The General eyed her as if wondering how violent she might turn out to be if he refused. She supposed the desperation must be showing. "Very well," he said cautiously. Fixing her with a stern eye, he qualified, "But you _will _remain in sight of your escort at all times and you _will not_ try to leave the base. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes!" Feeling relieved, Sage hurried back toward her room, congratulating herself on catching General Hammond when Jack wasn't anywhere around. Digging through what she'd left in her Mary Poppins' bag, she almost hummed as she searched for her small pot of plenty. The base food was (if you closed your eyes, plugged your nose, and pretended that you had no sensation – or taste – in your mouth) _alright_, but today was special. It deserved special food. Ignoring the side-long looks from her guards, she grabbed a blanket off the bed and trotted purposefully toward the elevators. _Non-entities!_ She jeered at them in her head. It was hollow comfort, at best.

Spreading her blanket out over a grassy spot that happened to be in a patch of sunlight, she arranged the books she had brought with her – pulling them out of her sleeve, to the deep suspicion of her watchers – and then began fiddling with her pot. It wasn't a very good pot, she knew; traditionally, a pot of plenty should be a thick, wrought iron cauldron, as black as the devil's teeth after he's eaten an ounce of molasses. Sage had to improvise. _It's not my fault the only stainless steel utensil available at the time was a flour sifter,_ she thought grudgingly. Pulling several sandwiches out of it, she pushed it off to one side, trying to ignore the bemused auras coming from a little way off. A certain kind of look doesn't need accompanying sound; it has a presence all its own.

As an afterthought, she picked the sifter back up and twisted around to look at the two airmen assigned to watch her. "Want some?" she asked sweetly.

Jack drove onto the base in a dark humor. He was more or less on auto pilot, his mind still brooding on the terrible wrongs done to him. Why did he have to go to the dentist, anyway? And if he did, why did it have to be some yahoo straight out of teeth school when Frasier was surely capable of pronouncing a clean bill of health on a set of chompers? He would have continued muttering imprecations on all quacks with a big, tacky tooth above their door, but the sight of Airman Baines folding a colorful patchwork quilt and Airman Rothkovitsch holding – a flour sifter? – was enough to jolt, if not his teeth, at least thoughts of the dentist right out of his head. Slamming on the breaks, he glowered murderously through the windshield. The sound of his tires' squealing protests startled Sage Griswold and the airmen, all three freezing with identical looks of shock on their faces. Griswold locked eyes with him and paled. _Yeah, that's right, put on your helpless little female act, and see how _not _taken in I am._

Instead, after a moment, she _waved_. CHEEKILY. Cursing, he hit the gas and headed on toward the parking lot. When he met them on the way in, he was grimly pleased to see that the airmen looked properly sheepish. Griswold, on the other hand… there was a _glint_ in her eye that he didn't remember seeing before. Long experience had taught Jack to stay on guard when the eyes of people he didn't trust _glinted_.

Not that he didn't always stay on guard around people he didn't trust anyway, he just stayed on… _guarder-er_… when there was eye-glinting involved.

Sage Griswold and her eyes were totally wiped from his mind, though, as Jack stepped into the mayhem that was the SGC. Sirens were blaring, people were running, and things generally resembled an upset ant-hill. Breaking into a sprint, he made a bee-line for the gate room. _Dear God, don't let it be any of my people._ Not that there was any great chance of that; you couldn't just go off-world for an afternoon holiday, and what could happen to them earthside? What could happen to them earthside? He sped up.

Sage had thought she was making real progress with Airmen Rothkovitsch and Baines – _Imagine that; I actually have two friends to call my own_ – but that didn't stop them from firmly insisting that she return to her assigned hole in the wall. _I'm sorry I called you non-entities; I should have known better, but do you have to make your faces so cold and blank to be professional? You've eaten my food; you know I'm not going to cause any trouble._ She sighed as she heard the dead-bolt heave to. The airmen would be needed elsewhere, she guessed. At least the sirens seemed to have stopped.

An all too familiar prickling sensation made her stomach curdle and her spine shiver. Turning to the mirror, she lifted her shirt up over her midriff. Three of the four tattoos around her waist; a black panther, a gray dragon, and a white wolf, were beginning to shift, as if stretching in preparation of coming to life. Three eldritch voices in her deepest mind said, one after the other:

_I smell fear._

_I smell pain._

_I smell death._

"The infirmary," she gasped aloud. "I have to get to the infirmary!"

Janet Frasier paused a moment to consider the status quo. Twenty-plus critical victims of a natural disaster had been brought in through the stargate, and she and her core staff sure as hell weren't able to treat all of them at once. _I'm going to lose some of them._ Swinging around in order to get on with it, she nearly bumped into one of her subordinates. "Yes – what?" she barked.

"Ma'am," the nurse gestured helplessly. "All she's doing is touching them for a few minutes, and they're stabilized – it's – it's like magic!"

Janet focused in the direction indicated. Sage was leaning over a middle aged woman with severe abrasions and Lord knew how much internal bleeding. She had her hands pressed to the woman's bare stomach, and as Janet watched, the woman's twisted expression of pain eased – even as Sage convulsed, coughing up a few mouthfuls of blood. Stunned, Janet watched Sage straighten up with exaggerated slowness. She turned to the next bed and carefully exposed the abdomen of the young boy lying there. Janet's eyes travelled up beyond Sage to the doorway where Jack O'Neill stood. He met her gaze and shrugged.

Pulling herself together, Janet turned to the nurse. "And you're sure they're stable after she's – she's healed them?"

"Uh, yeah, I mean, there's still some pretty major injuries, but none of the patients she touched are in immediate – "

"So go help someone who IS!" she snapped.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

After that Janet lost track of Sage for a while. There was still so much to do. As things began to wind down, she glanced around, but the only non-injured people in the infirmary were her staff – and Colonel O'Neill. When Jack caught her eye, he marched over. "Griswold's in the ladies' – she looked pretty rough." Janet managed a small smile and took the prompt and the expectant look for what they were.

"I'll go check on her."

Pushing open the bathroom door, Janet called anxiously, "Sage? Are you – Oh my – Sage!"

"'t's alright. Just 'sorbed too much at a time… 'll be fine."

Banging the door open again, Janet used her commanding voice to yell, "COLONEL!" Even O'Neill knew better than to crack jokes about coming into the women's bathroom when Dr. Janet Frasier used _that_ tone of voice.

Sage shifted where she lay curled up on the floor to look up at him. "Ono," she muttered.

"Ya made a mess, Griswold," the Colonel noted as he carefully picked her up. He followed Janet back to the infirmary, where they managed to find a free camp bed to lay her on. Janet grabbed some equipment and began examining Sage, while the Colonel stood close by, watching.

"Told you; just took on too much," Sage said, and she did already sound better. Janet was very carefully not saying that what she was seeing was impossible, as the massive, full-body bruising began to shrink like melting snow, and Janet was sure she felt no less than three ribs snap back into place. She was still lost in her examination, checking and rechecking – before what she was looking at could disappear – when Colonel O'Neill spoke.

"Griswold, you and I and General Hammond are going to have a _serious_ talk about how you got out of your quarters." He hesitated, then added grudgingly, "But ya did good, kid."

It took a moment for that to sink in, so the Colonel had already turned away when Janet saw a grin like the sunrise spreading over Sage's face. "It's a start." The girl croaked.

"It is." Janet agreed as she pulled a blanket over her miraculous patient.

A/N: Heads up; next chapter is going to be a surprise!

*Also, if you have the time/patience/inclination/whatever to write a review, I'd like to know what you think about the changing perspectives. Should I just stick with Sage whenever possible, or do you like having privileged access to other character's heads as well?


	4. Chapter 4: You're American, I Can Tell

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER FOUR: You're American, I Can Tell

Dr. Carson Beckett shifted uneasily as he stared around the big stone hall. He felt uncannily as if he'd strayed into one of his old grandmother's bedtime stories of ancient Scotland. Why had Lt Colonel Sheppard wanted him along again? – Because the local population had become increasingly insistent that the Atlantis team meet "The Mister." They wouldn't allow him to start his medical aid program, or allow a trade agreement to be settled, without approval. A culture that was superficially like earth's middle ages had a similar resemblance in regards to hygiene – and he didn't even want to think beyond superficiality on that score. Unlike the Middle Ages, however, this planet's useful vegetation seemed to be in permanent and exuberant overdrive… which was why a trading agreement would be a very, very good thing.

He jumped when Sheppard spoke, and realized it must be their turn to see "The Mister." Sheppard rattled off the peaceful explorers who will help kick the wraiths' butts with his usual flippancy. He was addressing a man seated on a large wooden chair staged – typically – on a dais at one end of the hall. The man – The Mister – listened attentively, but when he spoke, he took the conversation to a different place – not to mention a whole new level of strangeness, even for inter-galactic explorers – than what anyone was expecting.

"Earth? You did say earth, didn't you?"

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "Uh… yes?"

The Mister glanced at one of the bystanders by the dais – Carson supposed they'd be pages. "Go ask Mistress Age to be so good as to attend upon me."

The page, with a masterly grasp of the art of delegation, pounced on someone standing close by Carson. "Go fetch Nana!" he whispered loudly.

The Atlantis team exchanged doubtful glances.

The Mister smiled, almost too politely. "You were saying, Lew Tenant Kernel?"

"Ah, well, we're headquartered on a neighboring planet – y'know just down the street – well, no, I take that back, it's more like a block or two over. Anyway, being the peaceful explorers that we are, we're interested in establishing friendly relations and trading arrangements with the whole neighborhood."

The Mister was smiling and nodding, but Carson got the distinct feeling he wasn't really listening (possibly because he _was_ smiling and nodding), like he was waiting for something else – something more important – to happen. He glanced at Sheppard. The back of his head looked wary. The conversation continued for a few minutes with each side getting more and more distracted, each reply more random than the comment or question it was in response to. Carson was relieved when the disjointed expectancy filling the room was able to focus on a single point.

A large raven flapped in through one of the high glassless windows, and everyone except the Atlantis team seemed to breathe a collective sigh. Sailing down toward the dais, the bird hovered at head height for an average human and… Carson had trouble focusing properly. The bird… _poured_ blackness down toward the ground and resolved into a woman standing on tiptoe, arms outstretched for balance. She was – striking. To say the least. Her clingy black dress, flared at the elbow and the knee, was offset by a gold necklace and a gold chain belt.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked briskly.

"Mistress Age – Nana, I believe you told me that you came from a place called earth?"

Looking suddenly wary, the woman glanced over at Carson and his companions when the sheer weight of their astonishment caught her attention. "Yes, my lord," she said, letting her gaze move aimlessly over their faces. Then her gaze drifted down to the shoulder patches that displayed the country of origin of each of the members except Teyla. Her face froze mid blink.

"These people claim to be Earth-born, too," The Mister stated, watching her expression closely.

"They might well be." She said, and she didn't sound pleased at _all_.

"They wish to establish trading relations," he commented. Turning to Sheppard he said, "Since you share a common origin with my advisor, I wish for her to be present during all negotiations – I'm sorry if I seemed rude. Is that acceptable?"

Sheppard opened his mouth, but the raven woman beat him to it. "My lord, if they truly _are_ from earth, then I don't recommend having anything to do with them, and if they _aren't_ then they have proved themselves untrustworthy by lying."

"But Nana, _you_ – "

"_I_ never claimed to be trustworthy – you just decided that I was!"

The Mister looked bemused. "They say they are nothing more than peaceful explorers, and they say they can help us protect ourselves from the Cursed Ones…"

The woman, Nana apparently, or was it Age? – That was an odd name for someone from earth, but she had recognized the flags – snorted and turned to rake a disdainful glance over her fellow planetmen. "_Explorers._ Huh. _Trespassers_, is more like."

The Mister steepled his fingers. "Well, Nana, using your example, I am inclined to give these _trespassers_ a chance. You may stay and assist me with the negotiations or… not."

Nana's jaw tightened so hard Carson imagined he could hear the teeth crack. One eyelid twitched ominously. "_Yes_, my lord. As you _wish_, my lord."

Giving her an optimistic, you'll-come-around grin, The Mister turned back to Sheppard.

Sheppard gave her a so-there look, and smiled perkily at The Mister.

By the time the discussions finished, quite a crowd had gathered in the hall, and some people were waiting outside. In the crush to get out, Carson lost sight of both The Mister and Nana. "We need to find that woman," Sheppard told them firmly. While the others moved off into the crowd, Carson pressed against the wall, letting the mass of people stream by.

Nana scoured the crowd with a gaze so intense it was worthy of any x-ray visioned super hero. The only one she could see was the jumpy one who didn't seem to be in the armed forces. At least, his stance and attitude didn't seem to scream it as loudly as two of the other men. She doubted the Canadian was military, either. Speaking of countries – what flag was that anyway?

Wading over to him she hauled on his wrist. "You. I need to speak with your resident Sylfaen. _Right. Now._ You _are_ from earth, right? What flag is that? Australia?"

He goggled at her. "I's the _Scottish _flag!" he spluttered indignantly.

"Oh." _I think I misjudged him a tiny bit_. Rallying, she said grandly, "I can travel to other planets; why should I bother with geography?"

"So c'n I, lass," he said sternly. "And _yoo'e_r American, Ah can tell."

_Ouch._ "Don't try to change the subject; I need to speak with your Sylfaen!"

"I don't know what yoo'er talking aboot! What's a Silfin?"

Nana stamped with impatience. "Sylfaen! You know!" Glaring at him glaring back, she snapped, "Witch! Sorcerer! Magic user – what_ever_ you call them!"

"Speaking of magic –" _Don't jump. Whatever you do, don't jump. You knew he was there the whole time; you just didn't deign to notice him._ "–how exactly did you pull off that bird stunt?"

She glared. Didn't the military have rules about not having messy hair? "I will explain that to your Sylfaen – _if_ the occasion arises."

Messy Hair exchanged a look with Scottish Man. "We don't know anything about a Sylfaen – whatever that is – _and_," he had the gall to raise a finger at her, just because he suspected that she was going to interrupt – which she had been. "we don't know anything about any magic users."

_Oh, please. What does he take me for?_ "Then how'd ya get here, smart ass?"

Oh, yes, that was the right tone to use; it got right down underneath his skin and clawed. Scottish Man interrupted before Messy Hair could respond in kind. "We came through tha stargate, lass; ho' did _you_ get here?"

She stared at them uncomprehendingly. _There's a really clueless expression on my face, but I can't worry about that right now._ "The… Council of… Winnipeg… doesn't _know _YOU'RE _HERE!_" Pigeons flew from the thatch of the hall's roof, dust motes floated down from the rafters, and if there had been any glass in the windows, it would have rattled. Distinctly. When the blue fog from her cursing cleared a little, both men were leaning away from her with wide eyes.

"Sheppard, did she just aktchully, _lit'rally_ turn the air blue?"

"Yes, Dr. Beckett, she did."


	5. Chapter 5: A Baaad Premonition

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER FIVE: A BAAAD PREMONITION

"The _arrogance _of it!" Nana paced across the cabin's wooden floor from one end to the other. She was aware of R'iod's head turning to watch her as she went back and forth. "They think they're ready to come _way out here_ to another galaxy no less, whole new _worlds_, and they haven't even discovered the one right under their _noses_!"

"Nana," R'iod began calmly. "I am aware you have no great opinion of your home world – "

"Hah! You bet I don't!"

"–But what can you do?"

"_Plenty._"

He gave her a look. It was amazing how human his expressions could be sometimes.

"I can – can _not_ encourage them. It's a matter of principal! And what if they find out about you? They're not all that complicated – or unpredictable. I'm telling you, it will be the _end_."

R'iod shrugged stoically. "If it is, it is," he rasped.

She stopped pacing and cupped an elbow in one hand while thoughtfully tapping her lips with the index finger of the other. Frowning suddenly, R'iod leaned forward, as if trying to listen to some barely audible whisper. "I need to talk to the others about this."

R'iod leaned back. Nana could have sworn she heard him sigh in relief. "Honestly," she huffed. "What did you _think_ I was going to say?"

Shrugging, R'iod took on a remarkably innocent tone. "Honestly? You are not all that uncomplicated – or predictable." He chuckled as Nana did a severe eye-roll.

"I'm going to call them." Going to the kitchen, Nana climbed onto the counter to reach for something on top of the mounted cupboards. After some minutes and several loud, clumping noises she managed to wrestle a wide, shallow silver dish down onto the counter. "Aquiferias!" she commanded it, and as it gluggingly filled with water, she went back to the cupboards and found two dried, shriveled peas. "Solarum Freddy et Aapti," she told one. "Solarum Rook," she told the other. The peas sprouted tiny, leafy little arms and legs, and opened teeny, emerald green eyes to look up at her. "Duplicate message: Emergency. Dark doings. Come immediately. Council of war. End."

She divided the surface of the water into four with the tip of her finger. "Occularum Freddy et Aapti." A small dot of light appeared in one quadrant of the bowl. That quadrant expanded until it filled the water's surface area. She drew the dividing lines again. "Occularum Freddy et Aapti." The process repeated itself until Nana was looking down at two people sitting by an outdoor fire, apparently cooking something. One of the pea sprouts walked to the edge of her palm and took a graceful swan dive into the silver platter. There was barely a ripple. A moment later the pea sprout came sailing down. It landed in the shirt collar of one of the figures, and he began squirming convulsively, while his female companion began patting him down frantically.

Sparing only a moment to smile, Nana wiped her hand across the surface of the water and started over, this time saying, "Occularum Rook." When she was looking down on another figure, this one perched precariously high up in a tree, she dumped the other pea sprout in, ignoring its indignant squeaks. Without looking up, the man snagged the sprout from the air by pinching it between the first joints of his middle and index fingers. "Show off," she muttered fondly.

"That was interesting," commented R'iod. "Let us hope you are being – "

"Paranoid?"

"I was going to say 'over-anxious.'"

Teyla Emmagan listened to the argument waging among her team mates and sighed. She often wondered what this earth of theirs must be like. It had been twenty minutes and they still hadn't gotten anywhere, or thought of the most obvious solution that was staring Teyla, at least, in the face. They had settled at a table in the village pub, and she quietly stood up and made her way to the door. She knew plenty about wise women, and although she had never seen one so young – or so cavalier with her talent – she knew the place to find information about them was not in a place like this. As she walked outside she heard one last snippet of argument.

"Well, if Sheppard hadn't let her get away – "

"_I_ let her get away?"

"Oh, forget all that magic stuff – it's just smoke and mirrors anyway. What we really need to do is get our butts back to Atlantis and tell Elizabeth about this! An earthling! Out here! In the Pegasus galaxy!"

"Rodney, I'm tellin' you – "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Did you just say 'earthling'?"

"Oh, yeah, very mature, Sheppard."

Wandering toward the other side of the village square, she spotted a modest out-door bakery where several women were bread-making. _Aha_. Teyla moved casually up to one of the brick and pottery ovens and admired the bread inside. A plump, bright eyed woman looked up at her with a smile that managed to be friendly and calculating at the same time. "Two bits a loaf," she offered hopefully.

Teyla smiled back regretfully. "I'm afraid I have no local currency," she apologized.

"Ooh, that's right," said one of the other women, eyeing Teyla's clothes with interest. "You're one of them that came through the Ancestral Ring – we don't get many."

"What sorts of currency do you have?" asked a third woman. "Like, what metal? Copper? Silver? I'd accept either of those,"

Teyla showed them a few Athosian coins. They were eventually deemed worthy, and Teyla purchased a few different types of bread, one from several of the women who were selling. Once the money had been exchanged and her loaves earmarked for her, she gave the group a radiant smile and said, "I'm so glad we could work something out; I was planning to go speak with your wise woman – "seeing some confused looks, she added hastily, "Nana, I think they called her, and I was wondering what I'd be able to bring her."

The confusion cleared up, but the women still looked off-balance. Finally, the first woman spoke up. "Our witch, well, she likes to keep herself to herself when it comes to strangers."

"I was in the Hall this morning," a woman told her. "I don't think she wants to talk to you."

Teyla allowed the disappointment to show on her face and she glanced at the loaves baking in the oven, as if reconsidering. "But," someone said, "I think it would be alright,"

When the other women looked at the speaker, she flushed. "You know, since you won't be coming empty handed,"

"Do you smell fresh bread?" Nana asked.

"I do not smell in the same way as you," R'iod reminded her. Their heads turned in unison to look at the door, as someone outside knocked.

"R'iod," Nana wavered. "I have a baaaad premonition about this,"

R'iod got up from where he had been sitting cross-legged in the open back door and headed toward the portion of the cabin that was compartmentalized into rooms. Just as the door swung open.

Nana's front door was unusually wide, which was what allowed the woman who didn't seem to have a nationality badge, Messy Hair _and_ Younger Soldier to come into the room practically at once. "Nana? Mistress Age?" The woman called out.

Their faces sagged as they caught sight of R'iod and processed what they were seeing. Three ugly-looking black guns shot up in unison. "WRAITH!" Younger Soldier yelled.


	6. Chapter 6: Smart Cookie

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me, unless specified otherwise with a footnote.

CHAPTER SIX: SMART COOKIE

"_Wards – WARDS! _R'iod, get _down!_ "

A shimmering wall of light shot up from the ground to the ceiling all around the room. The guns in the intruders' hands became red hot; leaving barely time enough for them to be dropped to prevent severe burn damage. The rounds inside reacted … badly. As they began to explode, everyone dove for cover. Someone yelled in pain.

After the fireworks died down, Nana cautiously peeked around the upturned table she and R'iod had sheltered behind. She met the eyes of the Messy Haired American, who had just warily peeled his face off the floor. Into the sudden, smoke filled silence, he growled, "What the hell was that?"

She met him dirty look for murderous glare. "That," she clipped off, "was my ward spell. I – "

A few randomly unexploded shells went off like deadly popcorn. Everyone ducked back down.

"When – I – set – it – up," Nana continued with icy precision, "I didn't expect to be dealing with _mechanized –projectile –weaponry_!"

"Ef we could put that aside for noo," said Scottish Man from the doorway, his hands pressed to the ward's invisible barrier, "Do ya mind lettin' me in? I think Rodney's hurt."

Nana became aware of a quiet but high-pitched monologue in the background. "Shot. _Bleeding._ Oh, the blood… oh, the _pain_…"

She turned to R'iod. "When I lower the wards, you go out the back." Raising her voice she said, "Alright, just a moment. Wards down."

The others were focused on the injured man, Rodney, so it was only the team leader who noticed when R'iod broke cover. "Oh, no you d – "he began.

Nana pointed an imperious finger at him. "Vir glaciem!"

The Scottish doctor paused in wrapping up the Rodney person's minor flesh wound. "What did you to him?" he asked in alarm.

"Instant cryogenics," Nana told him, not even trying to hide the evil grin on her face.

"Well undo it! Now!" said the other American. He seemed agitated for some reason…

Nana ignored him. Her witch sense was telling her something. Frowning she let her gaze sweep over the room. There was the wounded man, with the doctor leaning over him, and the Younger Soldier, who had taken a few steps toward her and was trying to look intimidating, and the one she'd spelled, of course…

The woman. _Of all the people to underestimate the female of the group – and I call myself a witch?_ She dashed out the back door, trailing her scream of rage behind her. _And not all of the garden is part of my power-base, so I can't use the glaciem spell again – I can't really do much of anything. Double ding-dong damn!_

She skidded to a halt just outside the little garden alcove where R'iod kept his contraption. R'iod was leaning backwards, slightly off balance just in front of the wraith tech while the woman held a pair of gardening shears to his throat. _Is she stupid?_

The woman was speaking. She hadn't noticed Nana, who'd gone quiet to preserve breath as she ran. "I want to know exactly what is going on here. I have seen a machine like this once before, to warn other wraith away. Why is it here? Why are _you_ here? And why are you allowing me to hold you at weapon point when you could easily recover from what little damage I might be able to inflict on you with these by feeding on me?"

_Noo, she's not stupid. How very interesting._ She stepped forward onto the gravel of the alcove, holding her hands out at the sides a little to show the woman she was unarmed. The woman quickly adjusted her stance so she could keep an eye on both of them at once. "And that is another thing I wish to know about," she said coldly. "You live together." Her voice grew even colder as she had an idea. "Are you a _wraith worshiper_?"

"Hardly," R'iod rasped dryly.

The woman gave him a nasty look and pressed the shears a little more firmly into his neck. "Look, you seem to have learned my name – what's yours?" Nana interjected hastily.

"Teyla Emagan," she said after a moment.

"Good, good, that's a start. _Teyla_. Good. Now, Teyla, you wanted to know what's going on, well, here it is. This is R'iod, by the way, maybe you can shake hands later. R'iod here, well, he doesn't feed on humans since he met me. He feeds on my potentia." Teyla looked suspicious, so Nana explained, "My magical energy. I have a spell set up that covers the house and some of the garden; as long as R'iod stays within the bounds of the spell, his body constantly absorbs miniscule amounts of magical energy – he doesn't need to eat at all."

Teyla had let her arm gradually move away from R'iod's jugular – if that's what wraith had in their neck – but at this she quickly moved it back. "Are we still within the spell's range?"

"Smart Cookie," Nana commented, impressed. "Yes, we are. R'iod built this warning beacon after we settled here, and he runs maintenance on it as needed."

"Why would you do all this – either one of you?"

R'iod hesitated. "That is a long story," he rumbled.

"No it's not." Nana looked Teyla in the eye. "He decided long ago that it wasn't ethical for the wraith to feed on sentient life forms. He also decided, as many, _many_ humans would have in his place, that ethics took a backseat to survival. When he met me, I offered him a way out. He took it."

"And you?"

Nana shrugged. "I made a bargain. A witch's word is literally her bond; I couldn't break a promise if I tried."

Teyla held Nana's look for a long moment. Then she skipped back gracefully, and R'iod straightened his posture, but she still held the shears at the ready, prepared to stab anyone in the eye who threatened to mess with her. "I am not convinced." She said flatly. "I have great cause to hate and despise the wraith, no matter what they have decided about _ethics_. But, for the time, being, let us return to the house, and I shall try to convince my team to give… _R'iod_… the benefit of the doubt."

"I suppose we should," Nana mused. "There's a spell I'm going to need to undo."

"No. Absolutely not."

Sheppard crossed his arms. Against all his better judgments – against all his survival instincts – he hadn't tried to kill the wraith again. He hadn't tried to kill the magic woman, either, which was quite an act of selfless restraint, in his opinion. She _must_ be some sort of near-Ascended being, with all that crazy power. He was vaguely surprised that he wasn't attracted to her. He could see she was attract_ive_, but it was intellectual – now there was a word he never expected to be associated with, least of all by himself. To be honest, he just found her distantly annoying.

Carson and Rodney had been arguing with her for the past ten minutes. Rodney had perked up after she, Teyla and the wraith had come back in. After _un_doing whatever it was she had done to him, she had done something to Rodney's injury. It hadn't healed, but Rodney claimed that the pain was gone.

"Whhhyyy are you so attached to this place?" Rodney wanted to know. "It's not as if it's the greatest place in the universe – I mean, I realize you probably had to settle for what you could get at first, but now, you have the chance to live in _Atlantis_ – with other earth –" he broke off and glanced at Sheppard. " – people."

"Ok, first of all, what are you talking about, 'I had to settle for what I could get'? And secondly, since I left earth in the first place, what makes you think I want anything to do with anyone from there? What action have I taken in the course of the afternoon to lead you to believe I want anything to do with any of _you_?"

Rodney blinked. "Well, I just assumed… How did you get here?"

"Ley lines. Universal ley lines. Not that it's any of your business."

"Could we get back on subject?" Carson inquired wearily. "Miss, we could really use your help back in Atlantis."

Sheppard nearly hit the roof when the wraith spoke up. "Nana, despite your protests, you are intrigued by the notion of this settlement – no, showing me a picture of a brick wall in your head isn't going to help you… and that image _certainly _isn't – so if you are worried about the spells that concern me –"

"It's not just you," she said indignantly. "It's my whole power base. I'd have to move _everything_. And as for your spells, they require that we spend a lot of time around each other. Do _you_ think they'll let you move into an adjoining suite in Atlantis?"

"Not likely," Sheppard said reflexively.

"Point demonstrated." She said dryly.

In the end, they came away, making it back to Atlantis to report to Elizabeth just in time to also report it to General Hammond through the newly established video link between Pegasus and the SGC.

"And you're sure she comes from earth?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you get her name? I'd dearly love to get a background check going on her."

"Well, we got a first name, sir, but she claims to have no last name. It's Sage, by the way." He knew something was wrong the moment he finished speaking.

"Lt. Colonel Sheppard," General Hammond said with worrying deliberation. "Did you say… _Sage_?"

"Uh, yes sir?"

The General turned to look off screen, and someone moved up beside him. He felt the shock of his whole team hit him from behind as they all stared into the face of the woman on the planet they'd just left behind... now standing in the SGC.


	7. Chapter 7: Sam Carter Special

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me, unless stated otherwise in a footnote.

A/N: Wow. Earth-side Sage seems really boring after those last three chapters. It's important for the story that it is that way to some extent, but I promise I'll try to spice her up just a bit. Plus, it's the beginning of the weekend, I can't sleep anyway, and my diet demands that I NOT eat anything right now at two in the morning, so this chapter is goin' up early.

CHAPTER SEVEN: SAM CARTER SPECIAL

Sage was having trouble with her magic. It had never happened before, so she assumed it must be from crossing into another reality. For one thing, her telemorphic abilities (as she'd once heard them described) were going completely haywire, and her gold charm necklace wasn't doing a thing about it. Every single article of clothing she put on immediately turned to a dull gray or brown. By the third week, there was no color left in her wardrobe. And, in accordance with the illusion that she was several inches shorter than she actually was, they invariably became loose and baggy, making her look even frumpier.

Exasperated, she shoved her sleeves up above her elbow for the third time in fifteen minutes, trying to ignore Sam's valiant efforts to hide a smile. Today was a big day. With Jack's grudging approval, she had gotten permission to seek a living space away from the mountain. Sam had offered to help, and had tried to chivy Daniel out of his cave to come along, but thankfully Daniel was being Daniel. Teal'c was willing enough to come along, and Jack was on one of his "I'll do anything to get out of doing that pile of paperwork on my desk and if anyone even mentions it to me I will personally see to it that they never eat anywhere but the base cafeteria again" phases, so he cheerfully attached himself to the party. They had parked downtown somewhere and were walking around now.

"I want to play a game," Sage announced.

The others looked at her blankly. "Ah," Sam began.

"I've already seen three street names that are different from what I remember. I want to see if I can find my way around – without any help. That would be cheating."

"How about two hints per half hour?" suggested Jack.

Jutting her chin out, she considered him through narrow eyes. "Do I get rollover?"

"No."

"Bah!" she quick-marched until she was walking ahead of the others and began examining her surroundings more closely, comparing it to the mental map in her memory. After about ten minutes of walking, they passed a Middle Eastern bakery/café hybrid. Wavering, Sage wondered whether or not it would be alright to go in.

_What the hey, the worst that can happen is someone will mistake me for the other Sage – if she was ever here, and how (un)likely is that?_ She pointed to it. "I used to know the owner. In fact, I lived in the attic-apartment of his sister and brother-in-law's house until I moved in with –" Sam couldn't help a flicker of interest, and Sage couldn't help noticing the flicker as she broke off and nearly swallowed her tongue. "S-someone else," she finished lamely.

Inside, she gave everyone her recommendations to the delight of the Indian proprietor. "There was a place _just like this_ where I used to live," she explained blandly.

Teal'c raised one eyebrow as he tasted the bulla bread. After a moment, the other one went up too. He ate the entire head-sized loaf. "I think you've created a monster," Jack whispered.

Giggling, Sage nodded.

After looking at a few apartment buildings, Sam's thoughts turned to shopping, and Jack and Teal'c hastily excused themselves. Sage looked after them mournfully. "Oh, get that look off your face!" Sam said nudging her with an elbow. "You'll enjoy it – shopping doesn't automatically equal clothes, you know,"

As sage relaxed, the grin she got was a Sam Carter Special, a la Imp. "It could equal _shoes_!"

All Sam got was a head roll and an exaggerated groan.

They passed some street musicians doing folk renditions, and Sage found herself stepping in rhythm with their jaunty guitar music. While Sam bought something from a nearby store, she wandered over.

As she got closer, she realized that two of the three were magic users, a druid and a sorcerer. They recognized her as well. The druid looked at her from head to toe, taking in her dowdy clothing and deceptively small stature. "You got some major self esteem issues goin' on there, girlfriend," she commented.

"Don't I know it," Sage muttered ruefully.

The sorcerer gave her a friendly smile and asked, "Can you sing?"

"It's been said that I can," Sage admitted with the kind of modesty people used when they wanted it understood that they were making an understatement.

When Sam came out of the store, she realized Sage had wandered off somewhere. The musicians nearby were starting a new song and she stopped to listen while she waited for the other woman to show up. "_The fishermen are pitchin' pennies in the sand beside the sea; the sunrise hits their oilskin boots and their painted boats and me…_" Blinking, Sam noticed that the singer's voice sounded different. "_Day's for work, night's the time to go dancin'…_"*

Gaping, Sam realized that Sage was sandwiched in among the musicians, singing with as much abandon as a bird on a spring morning. She waved, and after the song was finished, she started back towards Sam, but the girl musician called her back and gave her what looked like a card of some kind.

"Hey," said Sage, flushed with excitement. "Get what you needed?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam laughed. "I was thinking we could go get a light lunch or something – and you can tell me why you never mentioned being able to sing like that,"

Beaming, Sage agreed. "There's more, too," she said. "Look at this!" she held out the card the musicians had given her.

"'A meeting of the Colorado Springs area Sylphaen'" Sam read. There was a date, time and location underneath. "What's a Sylphaen?"

"It's what they call magic users here, apparently."

Sam talked a little about what she'd been working on lately over their small salads and fruit smoothies. "Daniel thinks –" she said and broke off. Her eyes met Sage's and there was a moment of complete understanding between them.

"You're going to ask me, aren't you?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "It's just, you know so much about us, and we know practically nothing about you,"

Sage looked off into the distance and began fingering one of the two necklaces that she always wore. It was an odd decoration to say the least. Nothing more than a rusty nail on a chain – although it did look like it had a few hairs wrapped around it. "Is that a spell?" Sam blurted out with sudden inspiration.

Sage swung her gaze back around with a hunted look. "…Do you… Do you know much about Ascension in this universe?"

Sam blinked. "Ah… we know _about_ it, how _much_ we know…" she shrugged.

Nodding distantly, Sage continued, "In the other world, Daniel and I were married."

Sam's eyes bulged. "But – Shar'e –"

"I know, but in our world, she died several years before Daniel and I met. We were together for three or four years, and then… there was an accident. Radiation. There was no way, even for me to heal him – especially for me to heal him – and have him be anything like his old self. We thought he was going to die, but instead, he ascended." Pausing she clenched the nail in her fist.

After a moment Sam said quietly, "Wow." What else was there to say?

Sage continued as if she hadn't heard. "They had someone from the Tok'ra trying to heal him with a ribbon device, and he – appeared? Materialized? – He asked Jack to make them stop. Jack. Not me. I was glad he ascended instead of dying, I really was, but why didn't he come to me?"

After a stunned moment, Sam said miserably, "Sage, I'm really sorry; you should have just told me to mind my own business…"

"No," she shook her head. "Not that I want you to tell him – _EVAR_ – but it… it makes less awkward somehow, having someone else know." Suddenly, she laughed. "Anything else you want to ask while we're on a roll?"

"Well," Sam started.

"Go on,"

"I still don't understand about you and the drowning thing."

Sage sighed and rubbed her mouth. "Ah… let's see. Well, I'd had a vision of myself drowning even before Daniel – left. I made this charm –" she held up the nail on a chain "– so I wouldn't have to talk to him, if he ever decided to come and try – I couldn't have handled that – but when I was drowning, well… it was him. That's all I know. He pulled me out of the water and kept me from freezing to death until help came. But that messed with my seer ability – it puts the magic all out of balance. The rest, you know."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

"Visions?"

"Yeah. And boy is what to come a doozy."

*A/N 2: Judy Collins sang The Fisherman Song on an episode of Sesame Street. I haven't been able to find it for sale anywhere, but it's on youtube: .com/watch?v=1MGLOlqzK5s


	8. Chapter 8: How did THAT Happen?

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me, unless stated otherwise in a footnote.

CHAPTER EIGHT: HOW DID _THAT_ HAPPEN?

Sage stared at the screen, watching shocked recognition bloom on faces that she had never seen before. And the day had started out so good. Sam had realized when they got back to base that it was time for the scheduled check in with Atlantis. Sage had decided to tag along.

_Why didn't I just go hide under the bed?_

"_Ok…"_ began the one standing in front. _"How is _that_ possible?"_

"It's a long story, Lt. Colonel," sighed General Hammond. "For now, just keep tabs on her as best you can."

"_Should we tell her about…?"_ he gestured toward Sage's side of the screen.

Hammond considered. "At your discretion; if you think it might make her more forthcoming,"

"_Yes sir._" The Lt. Colonel couldn't help one more freaked out stare at Sage. She turned and walked away. Behind her, she could hear them continuing the discussion. Carefully not meeting any of the looks the control room staff was giving her, she went out into the corridor and leaned against the wall.

"Well, _now_ what?" she snapped to no one in particular.

She had been scheduled to go on a test run mission with SG-1 later that week, but that would probably be scrapped now. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she trudged off down the hall. If there had been a pebble for her to kick, she would have. She felt something in her pocket and took out the Sylphaen meeting card she had been given. _At least that's something to look forward to. _

A few days later, Atlantis 'called' again. Sage was in her room when Sam hurriedly knocked on the door. "We need you in the control room," she said apologetically. And all the way over, she kept giving Sage strange, furtive glances. _Honestly. You'd think she didn't have any experience with having two of the same person around_.

When she got to the control room, she understood why. It wasn't that she and the other Sage looked uncannily alike. It was that they didn't. The figure standing imperiously in front of her on the screen was… Goddess-like.

"– to get Miss Griswold," Hammond was saying, and the figure stiffened.

"_What do mean, '_Griswold_'?"_

Hammond shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss…?"

"_Nana. Nana Sage _if_ you must."_

Sage gasped and before she could help herself, she blurted out, "That's a witch's honorific!"

Both Hammond and the other Sage turned to look at her. Sam practically had to push her closer to the screen.

"You're a witch?" she asked.

Nana eyed her with a mixture of disdain and horror. _"You're a _Griswold_? How did _that_ happen?"_

_This can't be real. Even my _double_ thinks I'm pathetic._ In the background, she could see the Lt. Colonel from before looking between her and Nana. She supposed that was what everyone was doing. But there was something about Nana that was trying to get her attention. The words were out before she knew her mouth was moving. "How did you break Solaiada's curse?" _I've got to stop doing that._

Nana went very still. It was as if she hadn't really believed who Sage was before. _"You're… still under it?"_

She could feel eyes on her like a tangible thing. _Shyit!_ "Yes."

Nana folded her arms and frowned. _"Your charm necklace. I assume Baba Yaga gave it to you on your thirteenth birthday? It's a lot stronger than mine – why?"_

Sage clamped her teeth shut. _Damn, she's powerful. I can't even imagine being able to project that much forcefulness over a video monitor._ After a moment Sage realized she'd been holding her breath to avoid answering. Sucking in air, she started talking. "Not my thirteenth – my eighteenth. Your telemorphic and chameleon abilities aren't nearly as strong as mine, I don't know why, but I need a stronger charm to help dampen them – although," she added resentfully, "it doesn't seem to be doing all that great a job lately."

"_Why your eight –"_ she was beginning, when the Atlantis team leader broke in.

"_Look, I hate to cut the chit chat short, but if I'm not mistaken, we're not a telephone company." _

General Hammond blinked, frowning, and shot a glance from Nana to Sage. "Quite right, Colonel Sheppard,"

"_Fine,"_ snapped Nana. _"Then I'm going to need to come there."_

"_Excuse_ me?" demanded General Hammond.

"_You heard me. I trust your minions will arrange it."_ While Hammond was still apoplectically searching for words, Nana turned to Sage. _"And as for you, you stay right there in the middle of that military base until I get there. See if they'll give you some body guards – and if they do, make sure they choose people with _no connection_ to the Sylphaen community. I don't know what it was like in your world, but in this one, Griswolds are _not_ treated very well."_ Turning on her heel, she walked away from the screen and out of view.

Glancing sideways, Sage noticed with well-honed survival skills that General Hammond's blood pressure was approaching critical. She tried to slip away, but was firmly collard by Jack.

A short time later, she was firmly sat down, once again, at the conference table with SG-1 and General Hammond looking at her expectantly. "Well I don't know what _me_ to do about it," she burst out. "It's not my fault the me here is a – a witch."

"Maybe if you could just explain to us what most of that conversation was about," said Sam helplessly.

"Curse?" asked Daniel quizzically.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. _Please, can this all just go away?_ "Yes, Daniel, curse. I was cursed just before I turned thirteen. I haven't been able to break it."

No one seemed to know what to say next, so a short silence ensued. "Well, what about some of the other things?" asked Sam.

Sage hesitated, trying to organize the information she had to give them into a slightly more coherent statement than 'my life seems to have sucked worse than hers.' "I have two complimentary magical abilities. I was born with them. They're called 'telemorphism' and 'chameleonism.' Telemorphic you've already seen. I change my appearance depending on my emotional state. My chameleon abilities… well, I try to keep them under a more forceful stranglehold. If you're a chameleon, you can influence the emotions of other people. Influence them to want to protect you, to like you. After I was cursed… I lived – unwillingly – with a werewolf pack – " she raised her voice sharply to cut off the exclamations and side comments. "– with a werewolf pack, for about five years! During that time, both of my abilities became integrated with my survival skills. At the time, I didn't even know I had them, which made trying to control them a heck of a lot harder when I finally did find out. That was when I met Baba Yaga. She sort of adopted me – this was when I was eighteen. Apparently in Nana's timeline, Baba Yaga adopted her much earlier."

"I don't even know where to begin," murmured Daniel. "Curses? Baba Yaga? Werewolves?"

"What's the deal with your name, Griswold?" Jack wanted to know.

"I've already told you there are different types of magic users – people who fit into certain categaries and who have certain abilities; well, a Griswold is someone who can't fit completely into one category. They have abilities from up to six very different skill sets. In my world, I only ever heard of one other like me – and he was ninety years old."

"Hm," said Daniel. He was looking at her as if she were an ancient manuscript he hadn't read yet.

Sage caught Sam looking at her with a concerned expression. Shaking her head, Sage rolled her eyes.

General Hammond appeared to be thinking deeply. Jack was looking as if he wondered why he had to be there. The gate activation took them all by surprise and varying stages of relief for each individual. "Wonder if it's Atlantis again," Sam asked.

"Why would it be?" responded Daniel as they spilled into the control room.

Sage hung back. She was glad she did.

"Sir," said a pale technician. "It's SG-3. They've captured a Goa'uld – sir, they say it's Dr. Jackson's wife."


	9. Chapter 9: Let the Hunt Begin

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me, unless stated otherwise in a footnote.

A/N: YAY! Sage finally gets to do some REAL MAGIC! I beat her up pretty badly to do it, though.

CHAPTER NINE: LET THE HUNT BEGIN

There was a hush over the infirmary. Daniel sat beside his wife, one of her hands gripped firmly in his. Her other hand was clasping Sage's hand, as she lay unconscious and battered. Two weeks ago, when they'd brought Shar'e in, Sg-1 and Sage watching from the control room, they had hoped to contact the Tok'ra to remove the parasite, so no one had paid much attention when Sage said in a shocked voice, "I know what to do."

And then the Tok'ra never answered their calls. Daniel tightened his grip and Shar'e's hand, remembering the sick, blistering rage he'd felt. The days had gone by, and still no answer. General Hammond began taking pressure from the NID. And the whole time, Sage had been a transparent figure in the background, muttering about werewolves and schizophrenics. Finally, just over four days ago, she had told them firmly that it was about time she started earning her keep.

"I'll need my hands free at first, but then you'll probably need to restrain me."

_That_ had been an understatement. She had entered the room from behind Shar'e, weaving golden threads of light that seemed to trail from her fingertips and walking as if she were a cat stalking a bird. Then she just sort of draped the whole thing over herself and Shar'e. The light mesh had been absorbed by their bodies and Shar'e dropped into a dead faint, while Sage had seemed to go insane. They only barely managed to get her into a containment room. The Goa'uld parasite hadn't left Shar'e's body – it was there now. But it seemed to be… catatonic. From what they could tell, Sage had somehow pulled its consciousness into her own mind.

The next three days had been hell. The Goa'uld had merely seemed incensed to begin with, especially since it apparently had imperfect control over Sage's body, but it had rapidly degenerated into first fear, then terror, and finally at the end, insanity. It had beaten itself – and Sage – against the wall, against the floor, it had clawed, bitten and anything else it could think of. Janet had been nearly frantic, but they just didn't dare open the door. It was only a little over six hours ago that Sage had finally dropped into unconsciousness, and Shar'e had come to. After Janet's examination, she determined that the Goa'ul was dying. Unfortunately, it appeared Sage just might be as well.

Shar'e had insisted on sitting with her until they knew one way or the other. Daniel asked if she had experienced any of the turmoil that Sage had undergone, but she just shook her head and gripped both of their hands more tightly.

"What was that?" asked Shar'e, bewildered.

"_What trick is this_?" snarled the Goa'uld, vibrating with rage.

Shar'e was startled to realize that it was a separate thing from her. She could look over and see it – if 'see' were the right word. It wasn't in her head. Of course, she didn't seem to be in her head either – she didn't seem to be in any kind of body at all. The Goa'uld was a greasy miasma a little way off, but Shar'e could perceive herself too, as a brightly colored cloud with mosaic-like patterns. That was a new experience, being able to see all of herself at once.

"Welcome to my head, both of you," said a new voice – except Shar'e realized now that 'voice' and 'heard' were as inappropriate as 'looked' and 'saw' – they were just familiar words to attempt a description of what was really going on.

Shar'e and the Goa'uld were joined by another shapeless form – or was it a formless shape? – that was full of greens and blues and earth tones and sparkled like sunlight on water. There was a cave Shar'e remembered visiting once with Dan'yel. It was cool and wet, with only filtered sunlight; mosses and ferns grew there like nowhere else on dry, arid Abydos. If Shar'e could have had a sense of smell at the moment, she would have said that this presence smelled like that.

"Who are you?" she wondered.

"I'm… a friend of Daniel's." Somehow Shar'e could tell that Dan'yel's friend had shifted her attention to the nasty smoke that was the Goa'uld. Whatever form of communication they were using – it certainly wasn't speech – allowed the coldness to permeate what seemed like the entire world. "And I'm here to hunt."

The creature sneered. "Idiot human, you think you can play mind games with _me_? My race practically invented them." After a moment's pause, shock emanated from the foggy presence as strongly as contempt had done before.

The mossy presence projected amusement.

"We're in each other's head, so we can all hear the thoughts and feelings of the other…" thought Shar'e.

"We'll see about _this_," and the Goa'uld presence disappeared.

"Shar'e, it's time for you to go to sleep. I need to be free to hunt that thing down; there are some very, _very_ dangerous places here, and I can't be looking out for you."

"But, aren't we in your head?"

"Huh, _yeah_, that's why it's so dangerous. Look." A landscape suddenly materialized around them, and Shar'e found herself – now looking like a human instead of a highly decorative cloud – standing in the middle of a circle on the ground. "Stay in there and you'll be safe. Not that you'll have much choice."

As a loss of awareness descended on Shar'e, she heard one last thing from the presence that was like a cool, mossy cave. "Let the hunt begin."

Jack walked past a room of NID analysts studying the tape of the Goa'uld possessed Sage and shuddered. He couldn't drown out the high pitched voice. _"Please, she's your kind – you have to help me get away from her – I'll do anything… she's _mad_, she –she's trying to _kill_ me –"_ there was that and a lot worse. Pleading threatening, bargaining, the whole works. Occasionally there would be periods where no one seemed to be in control of the body; even rarer were times when Sage came to the surface, but she would dive back down relentlessly. Eventually there was just screaming, and hands beating against the wall until they left bloody trails behind them, like obscene finger painting. It was the analysts' third time through.

Entering the infirmary, he found Daniel and Shar'e sitting to one side and Carter trying to stay out of the way while Janet did her crazed doctor thing, darting around and giving orders. Something must have changed. Then he noticed Sage's eyes were open.

It was the end of the hunt. She had chased the quarry through murky cloud-scapes, riding on the back of Gray Dawn, her dragon spirit. She had followed it over desolate, barren hillsides, carefully shepherding it with the help of her wolf spirit, Bright Sun. And finally she had pursued it into the dark ghost woods, filled with white skeletal trees, the borders of which were guarded by Black Midnight, her panther spirit. They were all four in at the kill, the animal spirits given to her by Baba Yaga standing in a patient semi circle, ready to protect her if necessary.

The cloud of smog that was the Goa'uld shifted exhaustedly. "How can you be so – so… are you what the humans call an evil spirit?"

"Don't you just wish I were." Sage said, and ice formed on the skeleton bows overhead. "No. What you're seeing isn't evil. Having darkness inside you doesn't make you evil; it's what you do with the darkness."

"Don't tell _me_ – I know about darkness," the Goa'uld said with one last spark of life.

"What, _you_?" sneered Sage. "Years of mindless violence and casual cruelty? That's not darkness – that's not even evil, it's just stupidity. Because you didn't know any better – because you didn't even _try_ to know any better. Look at your trueform. Dull and transparent. You don't have enough _depth_ to be evil."

The Goa'uld considered itself: An oily splot on the impenetrable darkness all around it. It saw the truth of everything Sage had said, and despaired. Death was a release.

"Mistress," said Gray Dawn, twisting in the air above her head. "You should go."

"Mistress," said Bright Sun, bristling his ruff at the surrounding forest. "This place could take you as easily as it took – _that_."

"Mistress," said Black Midnight, rubbing his head consolingly against her hip. "Someone is calling you."

Returning to consciousness felt more like passing out of it. "SAGE? _TALK_ TO ME, DAMMIT!"

The thought was oddly distorted until she realized it wasn't a thought. _Oh, we're back to using those squidgy things in our mouths then?_

"Janet?" she asked in a whisper. She saw Sam off to the side, and Daniel with Shar'e, who was looking at her in a way that made her want to go back into her head. _Oh, great. Now I'm going to have to let her be _grateful_ to me._

"Heya, Griswold," said Jack from the doorway.

"Hey yourself, _O'Neill_."

"You gonna be up for a visit from your double in the next few days?"

"Colonel!" snapped Janet. "Alright, that's it, all of you _out_. Right now! Sage needs to rest – and she doesn't need any more surprises for the time being."

"Is it true?" Sage croaked as the others filed out of the infirmary, giving Jack dirty looks and reproving comments. Poor Jack.

"Yes, but don't worry about it."

With the last bit of strength she had available Sage conjured up an accurate mirror image of herself, about six inches high. Beside it, she conjured an image of Nana, the other Sage. Sleek, well-dressed and confident next to someone who looked like a frumpy recluse at the best of times and who now looked like she'd been through a food processor.

"I want to die." she informed the ceiling sadly. Nobody else seemed to be listening.


	10. Chapter 10: Cuckoo Child

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

A/N: Sorry for the long silence; I was hoping to get about a chapter a day out until I'm done (at around chapter 15, if all goes according to present plan), but school got kind of intense there for a while… Not a very good chapter IMO, but it was by way of a getting-back-on-the-horse-type-thing, if you see what I mean.

CHAPTER TEN: CUCKOO CHILD

"What should we do?" asked Freddy.

Nana hmphed. "I know what _I'm_ gonna do, the question is, do you want to come with me?"

"So where is this Colorado?" Aapti wanted to know.

Nana waved her hand vaguely. "Oh, it's somewhere in the middle. Quite a ways from both New York and San Francisco, but do we really want to take any chances where the war of the mother-in-laws is concerned?"

Freddy fanned his nose. "I forget how bad your geography stinks."

"Hey! She didn't know where it is either!"

"She's from India, she doesn't have to know."

"Getting back on _subject_," Aapti interjected acidly, "if we went wouldn't we be stuck there? We won't be able to access the ley lines again without more Philosopher Stone, right?"

"Right. And I'd recommend using even more than we had last time – it nearly wiped me out. I don't fancy trying our luck again with the supply Kash Kash* is hoarding."

R'iod broke in for the first time, drawing an unpleasant glower from Rook, who'd also been keeping his own council. "But won't you be returning the same way you are going?"

The three stared at him identical expressions of solemn pity. "R'iod, we can't trust them to be honorable or competent with any great consistency."

Freddy counted off on his fingers. "They're from earth, they are a military operation, and they have pet scientists."

"And besides, apparently they only have enough power to make an artificial ley line from one end, and with the artificial ones you can only go one way. _If _I do rely on them to get back, I'll have to accept a ride on one of their spaceships. Guh, it makes me nervous just saying it – don't they make play pens for planets?"

"You're really set on going, are you?" Aapti asked Nana.

"What choice do I have? Even if this other me weren't such a helpless little creature – and a Griswold, of all things – I'd feel obligated to make sure the balance of power wasn't too badly upset. Nobody wants another Sylphaen war,"

Rook snorted. "Too bad the Council of Winnipeg seems to have such a hard time _reminding_ everybody what nobody wants."

Freddy exchanged glances with Aapti. "Well, if it's all the same to you, Aapti and I will sit this one out."

"We're sorry," Aapti frowned. "But we just can't risk being stranded on the same planet with either one of our mothers."

"I understand, but would you do me a favor?"

"Anyth–" Freddy began.

"What would that be?" Aapti cut in, and Nana grinned.

"The two of you together should be able to keep R'iod's feeder spell going, at least for a month – although hopefully I won't need you to that long."

After another exchange of looks, they nodded.

Rook sighed and stretched. "When do we go?"

A woman sat at a desk in a room high, high above the ground floor. She was middle aged, trim, and had perfectly coiffed gray hair. Her tailored business suit was impeccable. Hearing a noise in the corner of the room, her eyes flicked sideways. There was a startled cry.

"Mistress!"

The woman huffed in annoyance. "There goes a fine and priceless carpet, you oaf. I'll never fix the slash – and probably never get the blood stain out, either. What are you, a stuck pig?"

"Sorry, Mistress."

"Report."

"The magic working we sensed was indeed performed in Colorado, as you first guessed. What was surprising is that it came from underneath Cheyenne Mountain, where the humans are experimenting with their imitation ley gates."

"Hmm, and the Council has yet to give one of their agents leave to reveal the Sylphaen. Go on."

A pause. "Mistress… we think we've found a cuckoo child."

"Oh, really?" the woman asked, amused. "Anyone I know?"

An even longer pause. "Mistress, we think it's an alternate reality Sage."

This time it was the woman who paused. After a moment, she repeated in quite a different tone, "Oh, really? I'm intrigued. What else have you discovered? Come, now, don't _disappoint_ me."

The small green blood stain in the empty corner seemed to be having difficulty breathing properly. "Mistress, we think this one is a Griswold. Our sources suggest that she might be vulnerable in regards to werewolves."

After a quick intake of breath the woman laughed. High up near the ceiling, spiders shuddered, and held their egg sacks more closely. "Werewolves, eh?"

"Yes, Mistress. We believe she has cause to fear them."

"Well, I think we can work with that, don't you?"

"As you say, Mistress."

Carson Beckett took the reflexive deep gasp as he stepped onto the SGC's ramp. To his right, he heard Nana's sarcastic voice. "Well _that_ was refreshing, oh; pardon me while I get the ice crystals out of my eyes."

"Too bad it was your eyes and not your vocal chords," he heard Sheppard mutter on his other side.

If she heard, she chose not to respond, and her companion, slouching menacingly by her side was too busy examining the gate room.

General Hammond stepped forward and exchanged military protocol with Sheppard. Then he turned to Nana. "If you don't mind, Miss – Nana – we'll go directly into debriefing."

"And your… visitor?"

Hammond frowned for a moment, and then nodded. "She's waiting for us."

As Nana followed him down the ramp, she asked with slicing amusement, "You forgot, didn't you? That _I'm_ the real me."

"I do not for a moment think of Miss Griswold as any less real than you, Miss Nana." Hammond said quietly. Turning back for a moment, he said, "Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Beckett, you're welcome to join us."

Nana crossed her arms, face red. She marched after Hammond with a stiff back.

As they neared the conference room, they could hear two voices belting out a wildly off key rendition of the Muppet Show Theme. _"Yat-dat DAdada, yat-dat DAdada, this is what we call the Muppet Shooooooow!"_

Nana turned to her friend with a quizzical sneer on her face, but as she crossed the threshold of the room, her face changed as quickly as if she'd been slapped. Spinning back she stalked across the room to tower over a figure curled up in one of the conference chairs. She had been one of the voices.

"What the _hell_ have you been doing, you stupid girl?"

The figure turned pale under her rather spectacular bruises, but shot back smartly enough, "You didn't say the magic word, arrogant witch."

"Whoa, whoa, _ladies_," Colonel O'Neill threw in, holding both hands up in the air defensively.

Nana turned on him. "They can _smell_ magic, you know – they have people whose sole purpose is to track down major magical workings!" she snapped accusingly. "I _told_ you Griswolds weren't treated well here. Whatever it was she did in the last few days, you can be _certain_ that they're tracking it down. And if they find her…" Nana was so angry she practically hissed.

"When you say 'treated well' what do you mean? Are these Griswolds looked down on or something?" asked Major Carter.

Nana looked her up and down. "I mean that – they're not so much _looked down on _as_ ganged up on_. Depending on what skills she has, various Sylphaen would be able to drain away her potentia and siphon it into theirs."

The girl gasped and covered her mouth. "Just like – "

"Solaiada." Nana finished grimly.

Hammond frowned, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers. "So you're saying that these… magic users will come here? To Stargate Command?"

"Count on it. And probably sooner rather than later."

"There are Sylphaen here that can track down magic by smell?" asked Sage. "I've never heard of such a thing."

Nana frowned down at her. It seemed like everyone was frowning at this point. "A kind of goblin."

But now Rook had caught Sage's attention, and she was staring at him, as if he were something that she couldn't quite remember. "Who is that?" she asked.

Before Nana could answer, Hammond slapped the table with the flat of his hand. "Excuse me, people," he bristled. "But we have got a problem here, and if it's not too much to ask, I'd like to concentrate on solving it!"

Nana gave him a cool stare. "Ask her. Since apparently the Sylphaen and the fake ley gate business are all lovey-dovey in her world."

"It's like a turned over ant hill," Sage said desperately. "We didn't see all this – this _trouble_ when we were looking for suitable realities for me to escape into… But if things are as _screwed up_ in the Sylphaen world as they seem, I don't see how an arrangement like the one in my home verse would work here." She crossed her arms over her knees and leaned forward to breathe better.

Janet Frasier had been standing in the background but now she stepped forward sternly. She put her hand on Sage's back. "Sage, that's about enough, you're still recovering."

On Janet's insistence the meeting was adjourned, and Sage was firmly shepherded away.

Nana watched the woman doctor with narrowed eyes as the General continued to interrogate her. It got hard after she'd turned several corners_, it's like a rabbit warren down here_, but Nana's concentration was up to it. "Is it possible to confuse the trail somehow? Lead them away from here?"

"I doubt it – although I can try if you want me to."

"Well, at the very least, we apparently need to arrange for some sort of protection for Miss Griswold."

"Oh, I agree."

"At least she hasn't moved off-base yet," muttered General Hammond.

All the military types began talking among themselves, and Nana started off to find Sage. She easily slipped by the guards who were supposed to be trailing her, rook just as easily gliding along in her shadow. At some point he smelled food and sheared off to investigate. She found her way to the room the doctor woman had brought Sage to. Opening the door, she went in.

She stopped once she saw what was hanging on the wall over the head of the bed. "You _kept_ it?" she asked disgustedly.

Sage Griswold, as she called herself, had been lying down with her eyes closed. She didn't move. "What do you want?"

Nana went to stand over her, irritated, and irritated that she was irritated. "I want to know what magic you worked."

"I performed an exorcism – of sorts."

Exasperated, Nana stretched out her hand and clamped it over Sage's forehead. _Who does she take me for?_ She fell head-first into a bottomless pit. Claws that both stung with cold and seared with heat raked her. Jerking back, she gasped, waiting for her vision to clear. When she finally looked down, Sage had her eyes open.

"Woman, there are places in my head that even I'm afraid to go."

This wasn't right – Nana knew this wasn't _right_. "What are you?"

Sage leaned up on her elbow. _Didn't she get the memo?_ "I'm _you_." Turning to the open door, she scowled at the Atlantis colonel. "What is this, Grand Central Station?"

Turning, Nana ground her teeth. "Can't you see this is a private conversation?"

Ignoring her, Sheppard smiled with false gallantry at Sage. "I hate to interrupt your bed rest, but you – both of you, well, you've got some visitors."

Sage and Nana exchanged horrified glances.

_I should just move in,_ Sage thought as she and Nana entered the conference room yet again. It was a deal more crowded than it had been a half hour ago, what with all the guards with their upraised weapons. Hammond, Sg-1 (_I see they've managed to pry Daniel away from Shar'e, I thought spitefully to myself_ she thought spitefully to herself), and the two people from Atlantis were arranged with thoughtful care out of the line of fire. Sitting calmly – and directly _in_ the line of fire – were three strangers. They were Sylphaen.

*A/N: The name Kash Kash is borrowed from an S. J. Tucker song of the same name from the album Solace and Sorrow. I haven't been able to discover if she made the name up or got it from somewhere else, but it seemed like a good name for Baba Yaga's counterpoint.


	11. Chapter 11: Card trick Big Boys

Disclaimer: I own no characters from Stargate SG-1 or Stargate: Atlantis, and have no affiliations with its creators. Sage Griswold and the aspects of her world were invented by me.

CHAPTER 11: CARD TRICK BIG BOYS

"To order – I hereby call this meeting of the Sylphaen of the Colorado area to order. I will now read the minutes for the benefit of our honored representatives from the Council of Winnipeg:

"First matter and related side issues – The Cuckoo Child case of the witch Nana Sage and her Griswold counterpart, Sage, ah, Griswold. Related side issues include the manipulation of imitation ley lines by the United States Military and associates and the subsequent inter-planetary – _explorations_ – by the same… And also their contact with the three extra terrestrial races represented here today.

"Sage Griswold, we understand that you are under a quite powerful curse, and that being in this reality is affecting your magic in unexpected ways?"

"That's right."

"Well, first of all, we shall need an exact accounting of how your lives differ, and a detailed explanation of your intact curse and _your_ broken one. Who wishes to begin?"

"With all due respect, since this is my native reality, I think _I _ought to start."

"Recognized, Nana Sage. Proceed."

"I was kept a prisoner of the Necromancer Solaiada for the first twelve years of my life. Since Solaiada was a witch in life, she was able to drain my potentia to fuel her own power. With the help of my selkie, Rook, I was able to defeat her and finally send her over the border between death and life for good, but not before she cursed me. She said since I chose my selkie over her, that he would be the only one who would ever truly trust me – "

"Did you wish to say something, Sage Griswold?"

"No, sir."

"Right then, continue, Nana Sage."

"Thank you sir. Rook and I escaped into the forest by our raven forms and were eventually found and fostered by Baba Yaga. We stayed with her until her death and then we traveled until we came up with the idea of the universal ley lines. We've been in what the humans refer to as the Pegasus Galaxy for the past couple years."

"Is that all you have to say? Don't think for a minute that we are unaware of the circumstances surrounding your passage through the ley line – Kash Kash is a bad witch to cross, Nana Sage, and let's not forget your other two traveling companions. An elopement between a Hindu spirit and a Celtic Sidhe being pursued by both annulment determined mothers? A fearful prospect, Nana Sage. "

"…"

"Quite so, Nana Sage. Sage Griswold, might we hear your story now? And I would encourage you to be a bit more flush on your details; we might not know your story as well as your counterpart's, but we can check up on what you tell us, and we'll be twice as ticked off – excuse me, as aggravated with you as we are with her."

"Yes sir. I was raised by Solaiada, too. In near total isolation, Solaiada was the only person I had contact with until I found my own selkie. Hob wasn't a raven, though, he was a fox. Solaiada drained my potentia as well, but apparently that would have been alright with you since I'm a Griswold."

"Do not try our patience, Sage Griswold. Our methods of handling deviant Sylphaen are not the issue at hand. Proceed with your story."

"Yes sir. Once I realized not only what Solaiada was doing to me, but also what she was doing with my power, I decided to leave with Hob – "

"Your selkie."

"Yes. Thinking about it, I suppose the ability to fly – or lack thereof – must have been one of the deciding factors in my fate. The escape was a dismal failure, and I was forced to fight for not only my life but for Hob's as well. I managed to defeat her, but not before she cursed me, too, and Hob was the curse's first victim."

"And what were the terms of the curse?"

" 'As you abandon me, so will you be abandoned by everyone you would not wish to lose.' "

"And did he abandon you? Your selkie?"

"He died, sir."

"Then I don't see – "

"Death is a form of abandonment."

"Ah. Quite so. Proceed."

"I had never been out of Solaiada's house before, and I couldn't get a bird's eye view in order to navigate, so I didn't even try not be lost, I just kept walking. Eventually, I had the misfortune to be picked up by a rabid werewolf pack, who in turn sucked my potentia into their pack magic. It was maybe four, four and a half years before they finally overstepped their bounds and a cleanup crew from the far north came down to where we were in the Pacific Northwest. One of the new wolves happened to be a friend of the only other living Griswold, so he took me there. His name was Togs, and he took care of me until he decided I needed more help than he could give me, so he sent me to study with Baba Yaga. I was about eighteen by then."

"What caused him to think that you were in need of special – training?"

"…"

"Sage Griswold?"

"I had become… involved. At this point, I knew I had Telemorphic abilities, but my chameleonism was still a mystery to me. The young man I was… involved with knew about the curse and said he didn't care. Togs was doing as much research on my skill-sets as he could manage, and he figured out that I must be capable of some level of emotional manipulation. Apparently that was more than he bargained for."

"Who, Togs?"

"No, the young man I was – "

"– Involved with, yes."

"I… didn't handle it well. That's when Togs sent me to Baba Yaga. She gave me this charm to help suppress the stronger manipulations I'd been unconsciously programmed to emit. It's supposed to suppress the telemorphism, too, unless I particularly want to change for some reason, but it hasn't seemed to work right since crossing realities."

"Then are we to assume that it is failing in its chameleonism suppression too? Ah. I see that aspect of the situation had not occurred to you. Well, never mind, the wards we have set up in here haven't affected your telemorphic appearance, but they would not allow anyone else to be influenced by undue suggestions. Your chameleonism won't help you here. Continue your story."

"There's not much more. I stayed with Baba Yaga until she died a witch's death and left me the house and her guardian spirits."

"When you say she died a witch's death, you mean she…?"

"Yes. The humans call it ascending."

"Hah. How very poetic."

"In my home 'verse, the structure is a little… different. The leaders of the magical world – Sidhe, mostly – offered the Stargate Program a partnership, with the view of a joint unveiling. When the program decided that the human world was ready for outer space aliens, they'd also be ready for their non-human earth neighbors. I was one of the first magical advisors in the program."

"And how did you come to need sanctuary here?"

"…I – one of the skills I have is a limited seer ability."

"Pre-determined or fluctuating?"

"That's just it, I've had some of both."

"Indeed. Griswolds are just chock full of surprises are they not?"

"Yes sir. Over the years, I've worked out a rough system – if I see the same vision more than once, it means it's pre-determined and it's going to happen no matter what anybody does – or so the theory goes. If I only see it once, I might have a chance to change the outcome."

"And?"

"And I'd had a vision of myself drowning in freezing water a total of three times before it happened. _And I didn't die_."

"Ah. The pre-determined destiny of the universe was disrupted, and began trying to right itself any way it knew how: Sage Griswold must either die or disappear from the fabric of the universe. How was it that one little Griswold was able to escape her fate and so royally screw up the natural order of things?"

"…"

"Sage Griswold, I will only warn you one more time – "

"I became involved with someone… again."

"Ah."

"Someone from the Stargate Program, someone who gained the ability to ascend and did so. Apparently ascended beings have the ability to… royally screw up the natural order of things, but not to clean up the fall-out."

"Yes, well, setting that aside for the time being, I would like to hear from Nana Sage once again. In Sage Griswold's story I have noticed her curse fulfilling itself in several instances, but it occurs to me that Nana Sage neglected to inform us how it came to be that her curse was broken."

"Mine was different than hers."

"We are aware, Nana Sage."

"Although not as different as they seem, maybe. I think they're both finding-the-right-person curses. My curse was that no one but rook would ever think me trustworthy. I found someone out in the Pegasus Galaxy who was willing to trust me. She needs to find someone who will either not abandon her, or who will come back if they do."

"An interesting theory. At any rate, I have been made aware that our honored representatives from the Council of Winnipeg wish to speak with the head human and the extra terrestrial… ambassadors in private. I therefore call an adjournment to this meeting."

Sage filled a glass with tap water, trying not to notice how badly her hand was shaking. She wished she was better able to handle the incongruities of the situation. A formal meeting of some of the most important magical leaders of the North American continent, replete with asininely proper language structures… in the gym of a local community center. With folding chairs. _Unbelievable_.

In the kitchenette now, she had slipped away to get a drink of water. When she turned, she was glad that she already set the glass down, because she surely would have dropped it otherwise. "Hello, Nana." She said resignedly, grateful her voice didn't shake as badly as her hand.

"That was an interesting story you told."

_That tone is _waaaaay_ to conversational. Even people who are having a conversation don't sound that conversational._ "More so living it – not always in a good way."

"Mmm," Nana groaned sympathetically.

Sage gave her a cold look.

"It's not working, is it?"

"You know me too well." _I'm getting pretty good at this killer sarcasm thing._

"What, was that supposed to be killer sarcasm or something?"

"Yeah, or something." _Grrr._

"I was curious about… about the things Baba Yaga left you."

"What about them? Hey, we should get both our sets of guardian spirits together – that'd be whiz, huh?" _I don't like that look why is she giving me that look that's not a good look to be getting…_

"She didn't leave me anything."

"Oh." _That would explain the look. Change the subject. _"I've been thinking about my telemorphic/chameleon problem."

"Yeah?"

"Um, it just seems the harder I try, the worse things get, so do you think switching realities could have somehow reversed the charm's effectiveness?"

Nana strolled across the wide patch of linoleum she'd been keeping between them and reached a finger out to test the charm necklace's potency. "Hm. I don't think so; I think it's just been cancelled out."

"Then I might as well take it off." As Sage slipped the cord over her head, she was hit by a strong wave of disorientation and gripped the counter gasping.

"Huh, whuduyuknow," Nana said dispassionately. "You know, those colors don't really go together."

Sage looked down, still feeling a little wobbly. "I'd forgotten what colors they were originally." _Oh, hell. It _was_ pushing me in the wrong direction. That means any friends I might have thought I made have probably only been responding to that damned chameleon manipulation. What if they hate me now? Maybe I'll just run away._

"Griswold!" Jack hissed from the door. Both women turned to look at him. He had sounded urgent to begin with, but now he stood open mouthed, looking between them. "Uh, _makeover_ much? Anyway, forget that now. The powwow between General Hammond and the card-trick big boys ain't going so well. Sheppard and I are supposed to get you out of here."

Sage noticed the Atlantis team leader out in the hallway, doing a credible job of lookout under the cover of loitering. Nana spoke in her ear, "They're right. Go. If you don't know what they think of Griswolds by now…"

"What about you?" Sage remembered some of the comments the Sylpaen – judge? Secretary? – had made about Nana. "You seem to have your own enemies around here."

Nana shrugged. "I'll be fine. I've got to go find Rook anyway, but I'll be in touch."

She looked at Jack, and he motioned for her to walk ahead of him. Sheppard set off down the hallway in the lead. Just as he was about to open an outside door, Sage grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

After giving her a strange look he stood aside, but she barely noticed. She was busy checking the heavily warded door, trying to see if they'd set off an alarm by going through. Sinking her mind down into the workings of the spell, she realized that she would. It was programmed to catch her as she went through, and send her to an iron laced holding cell. And just as she figured that out, the spell became aware of her presence. Pulling back just in time, she watched the red EXIT sign glow bright and then dim.

"Well?" asked Jack.

"I'll need some hair from one of you – yours, because it's longer."

Sheppard grimaced. "What _for_?"

"I won't be able to get through otherwise. The hair, please." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack shrug and then nod. At least he still seemed to be on her side.

Taking a few strands of her own hair, she made two identical knot patterns, connecting everything in a series of loops. She handed one to him. "Put this under your tongue."

"_What_?"

"Hey, it's not any nicer for me; do you want to do your job and get me out of here or not?" Her nerves were making her snappy, she realized. "It will confuse the spell on the door, okay?"

Watching suspiciously as she placed her own charm under her tongue, he did the same.

"Great," said Jack. "Can we go now?"

Sheppard motioned sourly that he'd go first. The sign above the door glowed briefly, but let him through. It did the same for Sage, and as Jack stepped out into the night last and let the door swing closed, she fished her charm out.

"How long do we – " Sheppard saw that she'd already gotten rid of hers and spat his own out.

"All right, let's get a move on, I think someone was coming down the hallway." Jack motioned toward a side street that would take them back to the parking lot. As the two men started moving off, Sage hesitated. There was a familiar smell on the air, one that made her shudder down to the bone. Sheppard turned to chivy her along and she shot out her hand, pushing a front of raw magic that flattened him to the wall. The werewolf's fur actually brushed him as it passed, snapping its teeth shut where his neck had been. Training brought his hand gun up and out, but the monster was between him and the others now, and moving so fast he wasn't sure he could get a clean shot off.

Sage seemed to be in shock after her initial quick reaction, and was just standing there looking dazed. After a moment she said in a high, thin voice, "There are more of them!" and three more wolves came pouring into the community center's small back alley. Cursing, O'Neill grabbed Sage's arm and started dragging her toward one of the clear side streets.

Glancing around him, Sheppard caught peripheral movement just in time to shoot point blank into the face of a werewolf. The beast fell back snarling, pawing its snout like a dog just stung by bee. When it looked back up at him and growled, its own blood mixing with saliva to drop strand like on the pavement Sheppard decided that he probably wasn't going to survive this encounter. The beast leapt, and Sheppard emptied the rest of his clip into it, but this time the wolf didn't even slow down. At the last moment he dodged, and the teeth sank deep into his shoulder, muffling a deep growl that vibrated his entire arm. He heard O'Neill shouting, but was too busy being in pain and hitting the wolf about the head with his empty gun to pay attention. He sensed that the wolf was getting ready to exchange its hold for a deadlier one when a sudden flash of red fur catapulted against his chest. He had a brief glimpse of luminous golden eyes, and then the fox was away, running along the wolf's back and clawing its eyes deeply in passing. The werewolf tore its teeth away, nearly taking Sheppard's arm with it. Two of the other wolves were already hot on the fox's trail, and the third charging across the pavement toward the alleyway where it had disappeared. The wolf squinted through its damaged eyes after them, and glanced back at Sheppard.

Instincts dulled by pain and unable to predict its parting shot, Sheppard felt the skin on his neck shred as the wolf snapped wildly. He sank down to the sidewalk as the creature pattered after its companions, dripping blood after it. Dimly, he felt O'Neill grab his shoulder, but the streetlamps that had been casting an orange glow over the battlefield seemed to be failing now, and Sheppard found it hard to concentrate as his throbbing shoulder and neck wound started to numb over. His last sensation before passing out was a burning white hot coldness that made the blood begin to sing in his veins.


End file.
